


2 AM

by Sarren



Category: Whitechapel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-12
Updated: 2010-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:56:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/pseuds/Sarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stakeouts aren't really in their pay scale anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 AM

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laridaes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laridaes/gifts).



> Yuletide Treat because you said you liked the Chandler-Miles team, and their relationship is my favourite part of the show. I know you said you didn't see them as particularly slashy, but you had just seen season 1 at the time. I'm hoping second season changed your mind as it did mine. *G*
> 
> Set after events of season 2.

Joe blinks against the flare of light as a motorbike roars past, too fast on the small street. He glances in the rear-view mirror and watches it disappear around the corner. It’s the first thing to disturb the peace in the last half hour.

“How’s Judy? And the kids?”

“Fine. Liam’s playing rugby now. He’s been corrupted; thanks for that.”

“Sorry. Other than that, though? Settled in okay?”

“Yeah.”

Joe sips his coffee and stares out the window. It’s late. If Morrison were going to show, he’d have done it by now. Joe doesn’t mind though. He enjoys the time he and Miles spend together on stakeouts. He suspects Miles does too, after all, Miles doesn’t have to be here, neither of them do. It’s not really a job for their pay scales.

The last light goes out in the bedroom window of the house next door. The moon is obscured by clouds; it’s dark except for the few streetlights along the street that aren’t blown or smashed. It’s not a good neighbourhood. Joe squints at his watch, it’s nearly two a.m. They should probably call it a night.

Miles shifts. “I never really said thank you,” he says gruffly.

Joe looks over at him. He can just make out the earnest expression on Miles’s face. “No need.”

“I know you pulled strings, called in favours. We could never have afforded to send them to boarding school at all, never mind _those_ schools.”

“It’s the least I could do. The cases I’m assigned now are too dangerous. I’ve offered you lead on all the Whitechapel cases, but you insist on staying with me.”

“Yeah, well. You’d only get in trouble without me. Besides, who else’d put up with you?”

“Indeed.”

Across the street a shadow moves in the hedge. Beside him, Miles has seen it too, is leaning forward...

The shadow detaches itself and slinks across the street. Just a cat. Miles huffs and sits back in his seat again.

Joe grimaces at the lukewarm coffee, drains it anyway and puts the empty Thermos back in the drink holder.

“And Judy?”

“Not thrilled about the kids going away to school. Neither of us are, to be honest. House is a bit empty without them, you know? But it’s for the best.”

Joe thinks of his own flat, how empty that feels sometimes. At least Miles has Judy. “Opportunity for the two of you to spend quality time together?” he suggests.

Miles doesn’t answer immediately. The radio goes to ads, a husky female voice promoting a phone sex line. Joe’s fingers twitch. He reaches out and turns the volume right down.

In the silence, Miles clears his throat. “To be honest, we only got married because Judy was pregnant,” he says gruffly. “Don’t get me wrong, we care about each other; there are no regrets, but it wasn’t a love match.”

Joe doesn’t know what to say. Miles and Judy have always seemed like the perfect couple – no fights that Joe’s ever been witness to; he likes spending time with them, the atmosphere always welcoming. It’s a home.

“That reminds me,” Miles says. “Judy wants me to invite you to dinner on Friday. You’ll come, yeah?”

Joe smiles at him. “I’d love to, thanks.”

“You know, the offer still stands. If you’re seeing someone, they’re welcome too.”

One of Miles’s best qualities is his persistence, but right now Joe is having a hard time appreciating that. “Why do you think I’m seeing someone?” he says, mildly exasperated.

“Well, I don’t really, only we’ve known each other over a year now, and you’ve never mentioned anyone, but you must have a life outside work.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t have a life?”

“No, well, yes, obviously. I meant I don’t date.”

“What, never?”

“No,” he says with finality. He hopes Miles will, for once, just leave it.

“Why? If it’s the gay thing, I told you, it’s not an issue.”

Joe resists the urge to bang his head against the dashboard. Instead, he leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. “And I told you, I’m not gay,” he sighs.

“Then why?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“I’m concerned, that’s all.”

Joe isn’t used to people being concerned about him. Maybe it’s partly because of this that he so often finds himself sharing personal stuff with Miles he wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else. From the moment Miles sat him down in that dodgy café and lectured him kindly on coping with the reality of police work, Joe’s been…invested…in their relationship.

Miles is waiting for him to answer. Miles can be very patient if he puts his mind to it.

“There’s nothing to be concerned about,” Joe says. Miles doesn’t look convinced. Joe turns the radio back up, some pop song he doesn’t recognise is playing.

Miles reaches out and turns it down again.

Joe sighs. Miles isn’t going to let this go. “Look, if you must know, that sort of thing doesn’t really interest me very much.”

“What sort of thing? Love? Or sex?”

“Both.”

“Oh.”

There’s a wealth of understanding and pity in that one syllable. Despite himself, Joe feels compelled to explain. “There’s nothing _wrong_ with me. It’s just that there are very few people I find attractive. I have to be close to them; there has to be trust, intimacy.”

“Intimacy comes with sex,” Miles says, sounding puzzled.

“Does it?”

He can almost hear Miles thinking hard. “Not always, I guess,” he concedes reluctantly.

“Not for me, anyway.”

Miles doesn’t say anything. The silence lengthens, becomes uncomfortable. “Besides, who’d put up with me?” Joe says, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He thinks of Miles’s comment earlier. “Besides you.” He’d meant it as a joke but it falls awkwardly into the air between them. Miles is staring at him.

“You trust me,” Miles says abruptly.

“Well, yes, but—”

“We have _intimacy_.”

“Ah, Miles, that’s not what I—”

“Am I wrong?”

“Wrong about what?” Joe says, feeling like he’s plummeting from a great height, vaguely nauseous.

“Do you fancy me?”

How the hell is Joe suppose to answer that? He wishes desperately that Miles had just left the whole thing the hell alone.

“Miles, it’s not that simple,” he says. He’s going to have to try to explain better…

“Oh, I think it is.”

“Miles—”

“I know you, Joe,” Miles says inexorably. “If you were anyone else, you’d be laughing in my face about now. I mean look at you, and look at me. Talk about beauty and the beast.”

“Now that’s not fair.”

“It’s true. I get it now. You’re not gay, no. But you’re not straight, either, am I right?”

Joe wishes he still had his Thermos, something to do with his hands. He stretches a kink in his neck, instead. “Gender is irrelevant,” he concedes, because Miles is not going to let this go. Joe’s not sure where Miles is going with his questions though, he can’t mean what it sounds like he—

Then Miles shifts, angles towards him, and Joe is frozen, half in anticipation, half in fear – fear that Miles is about do something that will change everything, threaten everything they’ve built. Joe doesn’t want to lose Miles’s friendship, Miles’s trust. This relationship is the most important thing in his life, having someone who knows him, knows his demons and still trusts him, still trusts him to lead him, lead the team.

Then Miles’s hand settles over his groin, and Joe’s body stirs to life despite his sudden mental turmoil.

“That’s right,” Miles murmurs, and fumbles with his flies.

“Miles, wait,” Joe says, putting his hand over Miles’s.

“Why?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to.”

“You’re not gay.”

“No one is, not on the force,” Miles says. Joe looks at him. Miles is smiling wryly at him, and Joe suddenly remembers Miles saying that to him before, the same matter-of-fact way he’d said it.

“Oh,” he says, dumbfounded.

“Yeah.”

“What about Judy?”

“She knows. I never lied to her.”

“And this?”

Miles actually laughs a little. “She won’t mind. In fact, if you felt like a threesome…”

“God, no,” Joe exclaims involuntarily, and then is embarrassed by his vehemence. Miles looks at him, and Joe braces himself for him to say something sarcastic, for everything to go horribly downhill.

“I was joking,” Miles says, and his hand tightens over Joe. “I get what you told me, I do.”

The sudden relief leaves him momentarily light-headed, and he sits back in his seat. He hadn’t realised how tense he’d been. Miles obviously takes that as permission to continue. His hand works its way into Joe’s underwear and grasps him firmly. Joe hardens, the arousal rising in him faster than he’s used to. He resists the urge to let his head fall back against the headrest again, to close his eyes and just concentrate on the sensation. Instead, he forces himself to look at Miles, to hold Miles’s eyes as Miles wanks him. Miles has a little smile on his face. He doesn’t seem fazed that it takes a while, he looks like he’d be happy to sit there wanking Joe all night. Something in Joe relaxes at that realisation, and then Miles adds a twist to his strokes and Joe reaches blindly out, grasps Miles’s thigh tightly as his body builds towards orgasm.

“That’s it,” Miles murmurs, shifting closer, and Joe shifts closer too, barely aware of what he’s doing. Miles’s breath is hot against his cheek. Joe turns his head, kisses Miles, half expecting Miles to pull away, but Miles doesn’t pull away. Miles kisses him back, kisses him firmly, takes charge and Joe lets him. It shouldn’t feel this good to give up control like this. His body tightens, the urgency increasing, and then Miles does pull away. Joe can’t comprehend it; he’s on the edge; he needs Miles to do something _now_. Then Miles ducks his head and puts his mouth over Joe and sucks, hard. Joe barely has time to glance down, to take in the sight of Miles bent over him before his mind goes blank, Miles taking it, taking it all.

When Joe can focus again, Miles is straightening up, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. Joe fumbles himself back into his clothes hurriedly. He doesn’t know what to say. He takes out the small bottle of sanitiser he’s taken to carrying with him in the field, then pauses, forces himself to look at Miles.

“What about you?” he says awkwardly. “Shall I...?” he waves vaguely towards Miles’s groin. He half expects some acerbic rejoinder but Miles smiles at him, that soft smile Joe only ever sees when he’s particularly vulnerable, when Miles is being supportive. Miles rarely lets anyone see that side of him. It makes Joe feel privileged that Miles cares about him that much.

“Nah, I’m good,” Miles says, and Joe’s not sure whether to be relieved or worried about what that means, that Miles doesn’t want him to reciprocate. Maybe he thinks Joe doesn’t want to. Joe’s not sure what he’s feeling right now, his head is whirling, but he’s not unwilling. “I want to,” he makes himself say. This isn’t the time for misunderstandings.

“I’m glad,” Miles says. He glances at Joe as he starts the car. “Another time, yeah?”

“You want to do this again?” Joe says, cleaning his hands.

“Why not?” Miles says. He gestures at the sanitiser Joe is still holding. “Better than alcohol to relieve stress, don’t you think?” he jokes, not unkindly.

Joe puts the bottle back in his pocket. “OCD doesn’t work like that,” he says.

Miles shrugs, glancing at Joe, and then back at the road. “Worth a try,” he says casually.

Joe looks at the side of his face. Miles doesn’t show his emotions much, but Joe’s learned to read him somewhat, and to decipher what he means from what he doesn’t say. This means something to Miles.

Joe means something to Miles.

Maybe Miles is as invested as Joe is.

“Why not,” Joe agrees.


End file.
